Snow
by twirlgirl04
Summary: Sometimes, remembering the good is the hardest part.


This is my first attempt at a RFR fic. I honestly haven't tried writing in four years on this site.. Wish me luck!!  
  
I'm writing this in honor of my Grandmother, who passed away very recently. I'm sorry if some parts seem a little.. Weird.  
  
~*~*~*~*  
  
Snow  
  
~*~*~*~*  
  
It was six PM.  
  
Monday  
  
My vision became blurry. I blinked and tears streamed down my face, rolling through the water valleys on my cheeks. I took a tissue from the bedside table and ran it over my eyes. I decided not to wear mascara today, as I had a feeling this would happen.  
  
I looked up and out the window. The sky was turning grayer by the minute, and there was a forecast of snow. It's a weird thing, really. It hadn't snowed all winter, and here it was, middle of April. Springtime. I know it snows during spring in some places, but not here. It was supposed to be summer, already.  
  
My eyes brimmed with more tears, and I blinked hard. I tipped my face forward so they could land on the blanket in front of me. The blanket I brought for him. The salty pools landed on the fleece, holding their shape for a few seconds, before they melted away into nothingness.  
  
It was hard to believe that just a week had gone by since he saw the doctor. We had been trying to get him to go for months, but he was convinced that the headaches, nausea and sleepiness were just side effects of a cold. It took him to the point where he could barely walk to finally give into his stubborn side and go. I can remember clearly when he called me later that day. Cancer. Who would have thought that cancer could sneak up so quickly? He was admitted to the hospital that night and started tests immediately.  
  
It was the next afternoon that we were told of the slim possibility of him making it through the next month.  
  
I cried all through the night after I found out. I didn't eat. I didn't sleep. Hell, I didn't even try to think.  
  
The next few days had been tough. I did everything I could to spend every waking moment at his bedside- reading cheesy magazines or reminiscing over the past. It was hard to think about all that we had been through, but I knew it had to be done. Done before this time came.  
  
I squeezed his hand and walked out of the room, shutting the door as I left. I turned right and went to the local vending machines. After quickly deciding on a pepperoni Hot Pocket, I walked into the Hospice "dining room" and placed it in the microwave. 2 minutes. It's amazing how short that really is. Yet at times like this, I would give anything to add two more minutes to the life he had.  
  
The microwave beeped loudly. almost so loudly it hurt my ears. I extracted my poor excuse for a dinner and moved into the waiting area, munching on the snack as I moved. I didn't realize how hungry I was until now. After all, I hadn't eaten an actual meal in almost a week. The cheese in the middle was hard and the sauce was slightly bitter. But I didn't care. I could think of nothing but him.  
  
I can remember the times we had when we were younger and we knew there was nothing to worry about. I can still remember when we would play house, and he would cut off the crusts on the peanut butter and honey sandwiches he would make for me. He was allergic to honey, but he knew that I loved it. That was all that mattered to him  
  
My mind jumped back to the present, and I looked down at the empty wrapper in my hand. I hastily threw it away and walked back into the room.  
  
~*~* Eight PM.  
  
I could feel him moving underneath me.  
  
I lifted my head, only to see him lifting his hand to his face. Weak. His arm was shaking. I forced a smile and scratched his nose for him. He didn't smile back at me; he just dropped his arm and drifted back to sleep. I sobbed. For what seemed like the millionth time that day, all of our memories came rushing into my head. Just as these thoughts appear, tears stream from my eyes.  
  
The nurse says it won't be much longer.  
  
~*~*  
  
Midnight  
  
Early Tuesday morning.  
  
He is still holding on, but I can tell the breathing is getting more and more shallow by the minute. Between every breath, an eternity passes by, and I stop my own breathing- waiting for him to take in another short breath.  
  
The nurse tells me to try and get some sleep. Sleep. I know I'm tired, but it will be impossible to stop my brain long enough to drift off. I try to please the nurse by leaving the room and sitting on a couch. Victorian. Very new and delicate.  
  
I stare out of the window, into dark nothingness. I know it is cold outside, and I shiver at the thought of stepping one foot into the unknown.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Three AM.  
  
Tuesday  
  
I know he won't open his eyes again. He will quiver a lip or finger every time I speak to him, so I know he can still hear me- but his body is dead. All that is holding on now is his mind.  
  
He's holding on for me.  
  
His hands and feet are cold. Like ice. I rub them hard, letting friction bring heat. If he's anything like me, he hates it when his feet are cold.  
  
I rub lotion on his face, and then put some balm on his lips.  
  
Preparing him for death is the hardest thing I've ever had to do.  
  
He was always so wonderful to me. Even though many questioned his ways of thinking and expressions, I knew he was as sensitive guy deep down. He would give anything up if it would make someone else happy. He would do anything for me. It was never said, but I know we have a special connection.  
  
A connection.  
  
It's almost over.  
  
*  
  
Seven AM  
  
He's gone.  
  
The nurse just told me.  
  
The others are on their way.  
  
Outside, it is snowing. Light flakes tumble slowly from the sky above.  
  
I enter the room, prepared to say my last good-byes. His body is slightly curved. He looks uncomfortable. The expression on his face is one of pain. Pain and fatigue.  
  
Once again, tears stream down my face, faster than they have all night. I start to shake, almost as if I am having seizure. I sit on the stool by the bed and kiss his face, leaving salty tears on his eyelashes.  
  
The eyelashes covering eyes that I will never see again.  
  
The throbbing becomes worse at this thought, and I can barely hold my head up. I let it fall onto his chest, praying for one more breath. One more sign of life.  
  
I close my eyes.  
  
"Lily."  
  
I look up at the familiar voice. Robbie runs through the doorway and grabs me, pulling me into his chest. I stand up and dig my eyes into his shoulder, letting his pajama shirt soak with my tears.  
  
I feel another pair of arms close around my back. A head is laid on my shoulder, and I can feel warm tears start to saturate my sweatshirt.  
  
"He loved you Lily. You know that, right?"  
  
I nodded slowly into Robbie's chest. I had known, and I had loved him back. More than anything in the world.  
  
I stood there, sandwiched between the only two people that knew exactly how I felt.  
  
"We need to remember the good things about Ray. That's the quickest way to any healing."  
  
Travis had always been wise, but this time he was wrong.  
  
I choked.  
  
"Sometimes, remembering the good times is what makes it so hard."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I'm sure there are parts that make no sense. it's a stream of consciousness fic.  
  
I didn't read it over, and I probably won't- so I'm sorry for all of the mistakes. Everything that happened to Lily in this fic is what happened to me earlier this week in Denver with my Grandmother.  
  
The only thing different: Obviously, its winter over here; not springtime. I claimed it was spring in the story for a very good reason. If you want to know why, feel free to e- mail me and I will happily explain.  
  
I'm sorry if this is too depressing. I'm having a lot of trouble letting go, and writing seems to help. I figured I could relive my story and feel a little better. It worked.  
  
Thank you, everyone! I hope everyone got something out of this.  
  
I would appreciate any reviews.  
  
~Amanda 


End file.
